Not Quite Dark Magic

Grey Area

"Don't be a prat, Harry."

"Hermione, why would I lie about this?"

She focused on applying even pressure to her quill. "There is no way that Malfoy and I have a similar magical core."

"That's the same thing Pansy said about Neville, and look at them now."

There was a snapping sound as the quill in Hermione's hand broke into two pieces. She stared at it for a moment before laying it down and pushing away the parchment she was working on. Clearly now was not the time to be completing the strategy of their next raid.

"Surely you can't understand my hesitation. You're paired with Luna, afterall. Practically a match made in Heaven."

Harry sat down and took her hand. "Yet you and Malfoy are only .1 away. That's the best match the Order has seen to date." He examined her face closely. "You're not lacking in confidence of the diagnostic, are you?"

She clenched her jaw before pulling her hand away and standing up. "I'm not doubting the accuracy of our spell." She looked towards the bookshelves that held all the muggle novels she hadn't touched in years. A thick layer of dust coated the bindings. "Maybe I'm just in shock."

She thought back to Hannah, to the fierce loyalty and warmth she felt towards the girl she had hardly known before she joined the Order. She would do anything for her, and her death hit Hermione like a freight train. The most frightening part, something Hermione had yet to admit out loud, was that it scared her how much she cared for a girl she had not rooted with. Their bind had stayed as superficial as it could get, no matter how hard it had begged them to just give in. They both knew how important the research was. Regret washed through her.

Harry seemed to read her mind. "You can't compare Hannah and Malfoy. You've no idea how you're going to react with him. Maybe because of your differences it will be easy to stay lightly bound."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "And if not?"

He paused. "The bond doesn't manufacture anything that isn't there. It merely enhances it." He walked forward and turned her until she was facing him. "We've been very adamant about that since the beginning. It's a spell, not a potion. A spell that can't create something out of nothing. You know this."

She nodded. "Sometimes emotions and science don't mesh. Maybe I need to overcome my own prejudices."

"Malfoy needs to earn our trust, just as Pansy and Theo did. Things probably won't be easy, but Hermione, the Order needs you."

She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She couldn't recall the last time she cried and she surely wasn't about to over Draco Malfoy. "I've given everything to the Order."

She felt more than saw Harry crumple in on himself. "I'm sorry."

It broke her heart how much he meant it. She was reminded, much like when she looked into Ron's broken eyes, that she was not the only one that put the weight of this war on their shoulders. She pulled Harry into a strong hug.

"None of this is your fault, Harry. You didn't choose to be the Chosen One," she whispered, voice light.

He grabbed her tighter, head burying into her shoulder for a moment before pulling back. She felt cold at the lack of contact. "But I am the Chosen One. It's my responsibility to end this."

She reached for his hand, but he pulled away and walked towards the door. "Luna needs me. Malfoy said he'll be at the cabin tomorrow at half three."

With that he was gone, leaving Hermione to sit with her thoughts. She looked towards her war notes and clenched her fists, repressing the urge to throw her work on the ground. Instead, she folded it all and put it in the first drawer of her desk before pulling out her notes on the Bind. She wanted to study up on it, be prepared for anything in the days leading up to the ceremony.